


A Bridge Between

by Malivrag



Category: The New York Dolls, The Ramones
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, New York City, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 03:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10152974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malivrag/pseuds/Malivrag
Summary: On a cold winter's night, Johnny Thunders and Dee Dee Ramone walk the Brooklyn Bridge at midnight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Sally" was the street name for the drug MDA, Arthur Kane's DOC.

The train shrieked as it shook and shuddered to a stop. Dee Dee cringed, clamping his hands over his ears a millisecond too late to spare his hearing. His eyes roved around the subway car, picking up on the anxious faces of his fellow passengers.

The conductor's voice came over the speaker, almost indecipherable through the static, but "mechanical error" and "last stop, everybody off" came through loud and clear. Now Dee Dee's fellow passengers began grumbling as the reality of the situation set in. The doors opened and the passengers shuffled out of the subway car.

"Aww, C'MON." A familiar voice rang out, quarreling with the conductor. "Whaddya mean, there's no A or E service tonight? How'm I supposed to get home?"

"Walk it, buster," the conductor said, slamming his window shut. Johnny Thunders -- no one looked like Johnny, with his face painted with talcum powder, always dressed in one-of-a-kind clothes -- smacked his hands against the window, cursing the conductor, his mother, and his alleged father.

"Home's on Tenth, ya bastard!" Johnny kicked at the train miserably. "You want I should walk across Brooklyn to the city? Ah, whadda you care."

"Hi, Johnny," Dee Dee piped up, waving a little as he approached him. At the dumbfounded look on Johnny's face, Dee Dee had a terrible feeling he didn't recognize him. "It's me, Dee Dee. Y'know, from the Ramones."

"I know your name, Dee Dee," sniffed Johnny. "What're ya doing out here?"

Dee Dee chewed at the inside of his lip. "Uh, I was doing... a job." He jammed his hands into his coat pockets.

Johnny snorted softly. "Yeah, I bet." He shifted from foot to foot in his platform heels. "You want'a split a cab back to the city?"

"I spent my money," admitted Dee Dee. He didn't have to say on what. "We could catch a cab anyway and bail on him when we get there."

"Nah, I can't run that fast in these heels," said Johnny. He turned and started heading up the stairs.

"Where are you goin'?"

Johnny paused and shot Dee Dee a curious look over his shouder. "Home. What's it look like?"

"You want'a walk home with me?" Dee Dee asked. "I was thinkin' of walking over the Brooklyn Bridge. We could keep each other company."

Johnny cocked his head to the side. "Aww, you gonna carry my schoolbooks too, Dee Dee?"

A furious flush painted Dee Dee from his cheeks down his neck to his chest. "Fuck y--"

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that." Johnny said quickly. "I was just bein' a dick. Sure, I'll walk with ya."

Dee Dee's anger dissipated as quickly as it arose. Still a bit cautious, he climbed the slippery stairs to stand eye-level with Johnny. The bitter wind rushed down the stairwell to make their eyes water and their skin prickle. They stood together, in suspended animation, for just a moment before a grandma pushed between them with her umbrella, grumbling about inconsiderate hoodlums. Batting the umbrella away, Johnny started up the stairs and exited through the turnstile, followed shortly by Dee Dee.

At street-level, the streets were eerily empty, a dusting of snow only disturbed here and there by dirty footprints. Most businesses were shuttered; it was late at night, and it would be a long walk to the city. Dee Dee inhaled deeply, feeling invigorated by the cold air. Though the streets were empty and lonesome, he liked the feeling that the vast blocks and blocks of Brooklyn belonged to just him and Johnny. He glanced sidelong at Johnny, wondering what he was thinking. Dee Dee didn't really know Johnny that well. He'd see the Dolls play a bunch of time at the Oscar Wilde Room, but mostly had only interacted with the singer, David Johansen, a lippy, charismatic frontman capable of bulldozing over damn near anybody. David Jo always had the prettiest girlfriends, girls that Dee Dee would fall passionately in unreciprocated love with for a week or two at a time, till the next one came along.

Johnny Thunders, with the sneer that said everything, the Doll who played guitar like he was challenging the first few rows of the audience to a fight, was mostly a mystery.

"So, uh, where's the other New York Dolls tonight?" Dee Dee asked him.

Johnny rubbed at his nose, the tip of which was turning red in the wind. His bare hands were reddening, too. "Syl and Jerry are at Max's. Arthur's at home, with his one true love."

"His girlfriend?"

Johnny laughed, a hollow sound. "Yeah, named Sally. Arthur loves that crap."

"So why aren't you with them?" Dee Dee kicked at a clump of snow, liking the way it exploded into a shower of white.

Johnny blew into his hands to warm them. "Cuz I got things to do." He slapped his hands together to increase circulation. "I had'ta break up with this girl. A real girl, not a drug with a girl's name."

Dee Dee was surprised that Johnny was sharing something like that with him. "What happened?" he asked.

"Felt like a toy that was gettin' played with." Johnny shot a look at Dee Dee, who was trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue. "Whatta 'bout your band?"

Dee Dee bounced with excitement. "Me and Joey, we went up on the roof so he could tape record the storm a few weeks ago. He likes that kinda stuff, y'know, uh... weird noises. So I held onto his belt to keep him from slidin' right down the shingles --"

"I meant your music, Dee Dee," said Johnny a little sharply.

Abashed, Dee Dee's mouth snapped shut. He didn't always understand when he'd pass some invisible line, when he'd say something 'weird'. He didn't feel weird inside. But people always took him, and Joey, and his band's Johnny, and even Tommy, the wrong way.

"Ah, wuz it something I said, Dee Dee? Cuz I'm sorry..." Johnny trailed off, picking up on Dee Dee's embarrassment. The guy was so obvious with how much he wanted Johnny to like him that it made Johnny a little uncomfortable, no lie. But Dee Dee's enthusiasm came from some kind of childlike place, which was at once charming but also kind of troubling. Dee Dee was like a little kid sometimes, other times, he'd pull a knife on someone in a heartbeat, or climb in a car on Fifty-Third and Third with some old queen to do god-knows-what.

"S'okay. S'nuthin'," muttered Dee Dee.

They'd almost made it to the bridge. Ahead of them, Lower Manhattan glowed, beckoning them home. As they made their approach, Dee Dee stopped in front of a shop and peered into the window. "Look at this, Johnny."

Johnny squinted to see through the dirty window. "It's a flower shop."

"Look," cajoled Dee Dee. "See that flower right there?" He tapped the window to indicate a potted plant with delicate white blossoms that were just beginning to open up and reveal their beauty. "That's a night-blooming plant." He looked this way and that, taking in the empty street to their right and left. "We're the only ones here to see it."

That gave Johnny pause. He contemplated the blossoming flowers, wishing they could breathe in their scent. Did they smell as sweet as they looked? They were white, sugar white. He imagined they smelled like pastries.

"Wow," whispered Dee Dee. "Check out our reflection." Johnny pulled his eyes from the blossoms to focus on their reflection in the shop window. He saw himself, his long hair down to the middle of his back, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dee Dee. "We look like a boyfriend and a girlfriend out on a date," said Dee Dee. And they did; Johnny with his long hair and coat obscuring his body shape, with Dee Dee in his jacket and jeans, could easily be mistaken for a couple out together on a late night.

Dee Dee laid his hand over Johnny's, his touch feather-soft, the warmth of his hand almost unbearable to skin long since numbed by the weather. Johnny jerked and said, "What are you doing--"

"You don't have any gloves," Dee Dee pointed out. Which was true. Johnny let him guide his hand into Dee Dee's jacket pocket. Johnny shoved his other hand under his own coat, and looked about guiltily.

"You gotta let go of me," Johnny said, and for some reason he could barely speak. "Somebody could see us."

"No one's gonna see," Dee Dee promised him. The streets were empty. It was just them. And if someone did see, all they'd see was a guy walking arm-in-arm with his girlfriend, snow dusting their shoulders. He let Dee Dee guide him into the bridge, let him steady Johnny in his platforms as they picked their way over icy patches and slick. The city lit up before them; they felt like the honored dead crossing into Valhalla. Johnny's heart beat wildly in his chest. He wanted to turn and run, run back the way they'd came, freeze to death in the night if that's what it took. He wanted Dee Dee to never let him go. He didn't know what he wanted. He knew what he felt -- the warmth of Dee Dee's hand on his, tucked away in the pocket of his leather jacket.

They made it to the Lower East Side, strolling up Avenue A to Dee Dee's apartment. Here, Dee Dee released him so Johnny could boost him up to pull down the ladder to his fire escape. Dee Dee shimmy'd up, and opened his window. He offered his hand again to Johnny. "Come up and stay the night," Dee Dee told him. He was shaking, whether from the cold or nerves, Johnny couldn't tell. "Please?"

Johnny tilted his head up to look at him, snowflakes falling into his eyelashes. "I can't. Dee Dee, you know I can't."

"I know," Dee Dee said softly. "But I had to try."

"For what it's worth --" Johnny fought to get the words out. "It's a temptin' offer."


End file.
